


Name

by MistressMNM



Series: Chance [2]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, For both Supernatural and Teen Wolf, Frontotemporal Dementia, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Season/Series 01, Uncle Bobby, Young Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 02:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressMNM/pseuds/MistressMNM
Summary: Name /nām/ noun: 1. a word or set of words by which a person, animal, place, or thing is known, addressed, or referred to, 2. a famous personorMieczyslaw Stilinski hates his name.





	Name

**Author's Note:**

> This is Book 2 in the Chance series, so if you have not read Book 1 please do so or things will not make sense. 
> 
> Please read the Author's Note at the end for more information about this series.

**Mieczyslaw Stilinski hated his name.**

At 9 years old, Mieczyslaw still struggles to pronounce his own name. Kids have always made fun of him for the strange mix of letters and sounds that came out of his mouth each time he tried to introduce himself. His teachers butchered his name constantly, stammering and stuttering over the long, Polish nightmare. They always ended up calling him Mr. Stilinski, for which his classmates would also make fun of him for. Even his father stumbled over the name sometimes, laughing it off and never realizing Mieczyslaw’s mood would sour when he did so. The only person who never had any problems with his name was the one who chose it.

**Mieczyslaw hated his name, but he loved his mother more.**

His mother wasn’t even Polish but she had greatly loved and admired her father-in-law. His mother was devastated when he died of colon cancer the year before Mieczyslaw was born. His mother once told him that his name meant “glory sword” and that he shared it with a wonderful man who would have loved him very much. Former Army Engineer Officer Mieczyslaw Stilinski had never met his young grandson, but his mother told him he would have been very proud to have him carry on his name.

**Mieczyslaw still hated his name even though he wished he could have met his grandfather.**

When Mieczyslaw was 4 years old, the closest he could get to saying his own name was “Mischief”. He insisted on being called that. He loved the way his mother and father would grin at him as they called him by his chosen nickname. His only friend, Scott, would do the same. As if they all shared the same little joke. Mieczyslaw liked being known as Mischief and he certainly tried to live up to the name. He was always going where he shouldn’t have gone or getting into things he shouldn't get into. His parents were constantly getting phone calls about their mischievous son and the trouble he would cause. His father would shake his head and lecture him on the importance of rules and respect, usually dressed in his deputy’s uniform for extra emphasis. His mother would laugh, hold him close, and whisper that he should try harder to not get caught next time. She would then talk his father down, telling him to be easy with their little Mischief.  

**Mieczyslaw hated when his father said his name in disappointment.**

Things became different after Mieczyslaw’s 7th birthday. He remembered his mother seeming paler than normal that day. Her movements as she baked him a cake were slow and her hands shook. He remembered her eyes fluttering before they rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed in the kitchen. He remembered trying to wake her as he called the Sheriff’s department for help. He remembered the wailing of the ambulance sirens and the way his father cried out for his mother. He remembered being held close to his father as Deputy Faulkner drove behind the ambulance towards the hospital. He remembered standing next to his father when a doctor used confusing words such as “abnormality”, “neurologist”, and “MRI”. He remembered how the nurses called his name when he was told he could sit by his mother for a little while.

**Mieczyslaw hated the way his name sounded when said in pity.**

The year that followed Mieczyslaw’s 7th birthday was a difficult one. His parents had to sit him down and explain what frontotemporal dementia was. He was told how his mother’s brain was turning on her and that the doctors were doing what they could, but there was no treatment to make his mother better. Things were different after that. His mother was in and out of the hospital frequently. His father worked longer hours and could often be found sitting at the kitchen table with a tumbler of whiskey and the family’s financial statements surrounding him. Some days his mother was fine and other days she would not get out of bed. There were nights she would not sleep at all and instead wandered the house wordlessly. His mother would walk into rooms and forget why she was there. She would mutter to herself and stare blankly at things no one else could see. She would start doing something and then leave it, as the reason she began had fallen out of her mind. She sometimes looked at Mieczyslaw as though she was struggling to remember who he was. But she always called him Mischief.

Until the day she didn’t.

**Mieczyslaw hated when his mother forgot his name.**

After the first day Claudia struggled to remember Mieczyslaw’s name it all went downhill and fast. She regressed from asking him to remind her of his name to asking him who he was and why he was in her home. She treated him as though he was a stranger who wandered into the house. She sometimes asked him if he needed her to call his mother for him. Sometimes she would remember when Mieczyslaw told her she was his mother. Other times she stayed confused until Mieczyslaw showed her a picture taken from his 7th birthday; from before the dementia began taking her away from him. Sometimes she would cry and ask him to forgive her for forgetting. Other times she would nod absently as though she were still confused and not quite sure what to believe.

A month before his 8th birthday, Claudia woke up and came downstairs to find Mieczyslaw watching cartoons on the living room couch. She stood in the doorway and stared until he looked up at her. Before he could greet her, she screamed and lunged at him. His father, the newly elected Sheriff, rushed downstairs in time to pull Claudia’s hands from around Mieczyslaw’s neck. Even as Noah held her down and told his son to call for help, she continuously screamed at Mieczyslaw.

**Mieczyslaw hated his name, but he hated being called “monster” more.**

Claudia was permanently hospitalized after that, becoming a resident of a long-term care floor at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. The nurses and doctors kept her comfortable as her disease ravaged her mind. Noah did not trust her to be home with Mieczyslaw after she attacked him. More and more often she would react aggressively towards Mieczyslaw. She screamed and cried when Noah would bring him for visits. She begged Noah to kill Mieczyslaw, saying he was a monster and he was going to kill her. She once climbed to the roof of the hospital in an attempt to escape Mieczyslaw and pleaded for her husband to believe her before she attacked her son a second time.

Noah limited Mieczyslaw’s visits with his mother after that. He did not want Mieczyslaw to see his mother like she was and hear the horrid things she was saying. Mieczyslaw refused his father’s attempts to protect him and snuck in anyway. He would sneak away from babysitters while his father was working and ride a public bus to Beacon Hills Memorial. The nurses would always let him in, but call his father directly afterwards. Mieczyslaw would sit and try to ignore the abuse hurled his way because this was his mother. She needed him, even if she didn’t want him.

It was during one of these solo visits that the monitor that kept track of her vitals began making unusual noises. It was during one of these solo visits that the medical staff came rushing in and an elderly nurse in colorful scrubs ushered him out. It was during one of these solo visits that Mieczyslaw sat outside the room, tears in his eyes, as he listened to the medical staff work to save his mother. It was during one of these solo visits that he heard a doctor say, “Time of death, May 30th, 2004. 3:57 pm”. It was during one of these visits that his father came running down the hallway, too late to say goodbye.

**Mieczyslaw hated his name, especially when his father said it in that devastated voice.**

The stale smell of roses would forever remind Mieczyslaw of death. His mother’s wake was held two days after her death, in a stuffy windowless room. It was filled with floral arrangements and people Mieczyslaw had never met. These people kept coming up to him and hugging him; telling him how sorry they were and how great his mother was. Mieczyslaw fought the urge to lash out at these people who had never shown their support before his mother died. Only his father’s comforting hand in his kept him grounded and calm. At one point his father sat him down in the corner, hidden from people, and left to speak to the funeral home director about the rest of the arrangements. An older man took the opportunity to sit beside Mieczyslaw. He was balding and had a full beard with salt and pepper hair. He looked uncomfortable in his dark suit and he held a shoebox in his hands.

This was his Uncle Bobby. A man he had never met before and only really interacted with through various greeting cards for birthdays and holidays. Mieczyslaw didn’t even really know how he was related to this man as both his parents told him they were only children. Uncle Bobby didn’t apologize or speak about how great his mother was. Uncle Bobby clapped a strong hand on his shoulder and sighed his name, not stumbling over the Polish syllables once. He sat beside him silently, offering nothing more than his presence.

It was surprisingly comforting.

Mieczyslaw ended up slumping against him, silent tears sliding down his cheeks, and falling asleep. When his father woke him some time later, Uncle Bobby hugged him close, whispered his name, and said goodbye. He left with the shoebox still in hand, though Mieczyslaw thought nothing of it. Later Mieczyslaw would find a card in the pocket of his suit with Uncle Bobby’s name, a South Dakota address, and phone number. Written on the back was a promise that Uncle Bobby would always be there if he needed him.

**Mieczyslaw hated his name, but it sounded soothing in Uncle Bobby’s drawl.**

Four days after his mother was cremated and her ashes buried, Mieczyslaw celebrated his 8th birthday. Though there wasn’t much of a celebration. His father patted him on the head before sending him off to school. Unbeknownst at the time, Mieczyslaw would come home to an empty house, his father working a double shift that day. At school, his teacher wished him a happy birthday with a pitying smile. During lunchtime, his best friend Scott handed him a slightly mushed cupcake with lime green frosting and yellow sprinkles. Scott told him about how his mother took them to the store to grab the cupcake last night. Mieczyslaw thanked him quietly and left it on his tray to be thrown away. Mieczyslaw came home to a wrinkled blue envelope in the mailbox. He sat at the kitchen table and ate a peanut butter and banana sandwich while reading Uncle Bobby’s card. For the first time, he wrote a thank you note back, addressing the plain white envelope with the South Dakota address Uncle Bobby gave him. He searched his father's office for a stamp to put on it.

He ignored the opened envelopes with red lettering that littered his father’s desk.

He also ignored the empty whiskey bottle that sat there.

Mieczyslaw washed the plate he used for his sandwich and pulled out his homework from that day. He did his best to focus and complete it, trying not to stare at the kitchen clock as it grew later and later. Finally, when he could not keep his eyes open any longer, Mieczyslaw gave up on his homework and tucked himself into bed.

He woke some time later to the sound of his father’s raised voice. Mieczyslaw crept out of his room and sat down in the middle of the stairs. He was out of sight, but he could hear his father shifting papers. He could hear the clicking of a bottle hitting glass. He could hear the sound liquid pouring.

Whiskey.

“Damnit John!” his father yelled, startling Mieczyslaw with the suddenness. “I can’t do this! Claudia’s dead and he’s your son.”

Mieczyslaw’s heart pounded at his father’s words. He stealthily moved down a few steps until he could peer through the banister and into the kitchen. Noah was seated at the kitchen table, whiskey bottle and glass at his side, with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Noah had been crying and his face was lined with grief. He was silent for a while as he listened to what the other person—John—had to say before he threw his phone at a nearby wall. Mieczyslaw recoiled back in fear and slapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself silent.

In the kitchen, Noah wept.

Noah never went to bed. Mieczyslaw stayed there, curled on the steps, until dawn broke. Twelve words circled round and round his head. It was the most still Mieczyslaw had ever been in his short life. _I can’t do this. Claudia’s dead. He’s your son. Damnit John. He’s your son. Claudia’s dead. Damnit John. I can’t do this. He’s your son. He’s your son. He’s your son. I can’t do this. Damnit John. He’s your---_

The sound of the newspaper hitting the front door broke the thought spiral Mieczyslaw was trapped in. He stood, ignoring the ache in his knees from staying crouched on the stairs for hours, and walked all the way down into the kitchen. He found Noah face down on the kitchen table, surrounded by those red-lettered envelopes, another empty bottle, and a half-full glass of whiskey. Mieczyslaw stepped carefully over the pieces of his broken cell phone and shook Noah’s shoulder. Noah woke and stared blearily at Mieczyslaw. That was the first time Mieczyslaw would tuck Noah into bed and clean up after him.

But it was not the last.

**Mieczyslaw hated his name, but he thought he might hate the name John more.**

Mieczyslaw may not be sure what that phone call meant, but it changed his relationship with Noah. Mieczyslaw worked hard to try and make Noah’s life easier. He kept the house clean and checked out recipe books from the library to find easy things to cook. He wrote out grocery lists and kept a calendar full of appointment and chore reminders. He learned how to work the washer and dryer with minimal mishaps. He worked hard to ensure he did well in school and no one had to complain to Noah about him.

Noah noticed the changes in Mieczyslaw, but his grief and stress kept him from intervening. Until the evening that Mieczyslaw said to him, “I don’t want to be called Mischief anymore. Call me Stiles instead.”

Noah was confused and asked Mieczyslaw where this came from. Mieczyslaw avoided Noah’s gaze and told him that he thought he had outgrown the childish nickname and he wanted a name that sounded older. “Besides,” Mieczyslaw said in a casual tone, his lowered gaze still a blaring red flag, “I’m a Stilinski right? It's a great name. Why wouldn’t I want to be called it twice?”

Despite Mieczyslaw never admitting to overhearing the conversation, Noah realized something big had happened. He would clear the table and do the dishes himself that night. Before Mieczyslaw could slink off to his room, Noah asked him to sit down in the living room. Noah cuddled Mieczyslaw to his side and turned on a random baseball game on the TV. They stayed that way for the remainder of the night. That was the first night Noah poured all the whiskey down the sink. He later called the Sheriff’s Department and asked to have his schedule reduced somewhat so he could spend some time with Mieczyslaw.

These changes wouldn’t stick. Noah would fall back into bad habits every now and then. He would work long hours and go days, sometimes weeks, without spending time with Mieczyslaw. He would bring home a bottle or two of whiskey when cases got rough or money got tight. He would get this sad look whenever he thought about his wife.

But he would hold Mieczyslaw close sometimes. Call him Stiles, always. Tell him how proud he was to have him as a son.

**Mieczyslaw Stilinski hated his name. But he would never choose to have another.**

**Author's Note:**

> So this series will not leave me alone. I have had a terminal case of writer's block since 2010 and I've not written anything worth posting since February 2016 (and before that my last post was in 2012!).   
> I am very happy to continue working and writing on this series which will take place in a mostly Supernatural universe with Teen Wolf characters and minor Teen Wolf details thrown in.   
> Please note that, despite evidence to the contrary, I am usually a very slow writer and poster. I cannot and will not promise regular updates and posts. I can and will promise not to post a part of this series that is incomplete.   
> The first few Books of this series will likely be one-shots detailing the continued evolution of this crossover world and the characters in it. It will eventually culminate in a longer Book that will have actual chapters. I have no idea how long this series will be, but I am excited to find out!


End file.
